Brothers
by theyellowone
Summary: four times they met England's brothers and the one time England's brothers met them. Rated T for Scotland
1. Wales

**I do not own hetalia **

**This is my first story so please don't be too harsh. This is not historically accurate (then again neither is most of hetalia) and it is when France met England and Wales. enjoy.**

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Francis was lonely. And that was quite a feat considering the fact that he lived so close to so many other countries, but none the less he was lonely. Usually when he was lonely he went and talked to one of the bigger nations but right now they were off at one of their meetings that Francis wasn't allowed to go to. So Francis was alone, on the beach, staring out at the sea when he got an idea, an idea that to him was so brilliant there was no way it couldn't work. He ran off to find his boat as he went over exactly what he would do in his mind. He would sail off to that strange island over that small part of the sea. He had been sailing there a few times and quite often seen people, well three people to be honest, two red-heads and a brunette, all of whom must be lonely being stuck on that island with only each other for company. As he daydreamed about how much his new friends would love him his boat scraped on the ground alerting Francis to the fact that he was at the strange island. He looked around; he appeared to have landed on a small strip of beach beyond which lay a field full of beautiful green grass and the occasional sheep. As Francis looked closer he could vaguely see a mop of blond hair poking up over the grass. This took him aback as he was sure none of the people he had seen had had blond hair. Nevertheless Francis quickly hurried over to the mess of hair only to discover a boy, a few years younger than him physically with hair as golden as the sun and eyes as green as the grass that he sat in, sadly that is where his beauty ended as his 'lovely' golden hair was in a mess sticking every which way and looking horrific and his eyes were ruined by the monstrous caterpillars of eyebrows that rested on the boy's face, the boy also wore a dark green cloak covered on dirt and twigs that covered up the rest of his outfit. The boy giggled at something then appeared to pet thin air, Francis looked on mournfully, it would appear his years in solitude had made the boy mad; however Francis would soon fix that as his beauty could even cure the mad.

"Hello" he called out to the child in French. The boy jumped looking startled and Francis quickly realised that the boy didn't know French regardless Francis carried on towards the boy a smile on his face to show that he meant no harm. Happily the boy didn't run away and soon Francis was right in front of him "Hello" he repeated in French "My name is Francis and I will be your new best friend. Or at least I will be once we get you sorted out, for starters the cloak it's dark and depressing you want a beautiful cape like mine and your eyebrows will have to be dealt with too we can't be doing with those and your hair as well will need doing and perhaps styling into a beautiful manor like mine" Francis continued rambling about the boys flaws and the boy sat there doing nothing but staring at the madman before him. You see the boy had a special gift, he knew when people were being insulting in another language, mostly thanks to his foul mouthed brothers who tended to switch to their native tongues when insulting people so that he did not start to repeat what they said despite the fact that the boy could fluently speak all of his brothers' languages. The boy understood from the odd man's wild gestures that he found his clothing, hair and eyebrows ugly which angered the boy to no end as everyone in his family had the same eyebrows and by insulting them you insulted his whole family. So, slowly, the boy got up and looked at Francis and Francis, happily oblivious to the boy's anger, looked back. Which was when the boy punched him. Hard. Francis yelled in pain, anger flooding his face as he stumbled back "why you-" he yelled advancing on the boy when suddenly something thin, hooked and wooden slipped around his throat.

"Take one more step and you'll be strangled" a voice from behind him said in poor but understandable French slightly mangled by his unidentifiable accent. Francis carefully turned around to see his attacker and was shocked at the sight of the brown haired man he had seen before holding a Shepard's crook. From afar the man had looked peaceful and harmless but right now his green eyes, identical to those of the boy who stood behind him, were filled with a burning rage, he looked like an older brunette version of the boy but he wore simple farmer's clothes instead of the billowing green cloak the boy wore. The man tugged hard on the crook causing Francis to fall to his knees "get out!" the man barked angrily "and never come back!" Francis gladly complied stumbling to his feet he clumsily ran to his boat and set off home before the two could catch him. As he sailed away he heard the boy speak in a beautiful but unknown language and the young man answered back in a different and familiar tongue, the boy said something solemnly seeming to understand the man, despite the fact that he spoke a different language, and the man replied before turning away from the sea and taking his seemingly younger brother with him.

If Francis had been able to speak the combined old English and Welsh he would have heard the young boy say "brother why did he just leave without a fight like that?" and he would have understood the man replying "because he is not strong like us, he is weak" he also would have understood the boy saying "sometimes strength is lonely Cymru" and the man saying "but you have us and we will always be here for you Albion, I promise you" and if Francis had watched for longer then he would have seen them embrace before taking each other's hand and walking out into the field. But no matter what Francis would never have seen the fairies that fluttered around the two as they made their way home, because no matter what that little boy would always be different to him. So wonderfully different.

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**So I have the meetings for Scotland and Republic of Ireland planned out the only on I am stuck on is northern Ireland if anyone has any ideas please tell me (in a review or PM) even if you don't have an idea just an opinion of the story or a question please review I really want some feedback on this. Thanks for reading.**


	2. Scotland

**I do not own hetalia**

**Okay, this might be the fastest I will ever update any story but I had an idea about Scotland and had to write it. Originally it was just over 600 words but I stayed up until 3am editing it and it now has about 1,400 words, so be grateful and perhaps you could show your gratitude by reviewing? enjoy.**

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Germany sat down for the first time all day. He had just gotten out of a meeting with the fuhrer that had not gone well. It seemed that, rather than causing the British people to submit to invasion like they had expected, the blitz had actually made them angrier, which was most certainly not helpful. The door creaked open behind him and Germany sighed assuming it was another stuttering soldier with another update on the war. He really didn't have time for this as between all the strategy meetings and battles and talks with other nations his body barely had time to heal.

"Jah?" Germany asked not even bothering to turn around as he was far too exhausted, war really took its toll in a country.

"Burns covered his body and he was screaming" a heavily accented voice said from behind him in English it sounded distracted and distant. He warily turned around, eyes wide, to see a man. He was tall and slim with red hair the colour of blood, extremely familiar green eyes and unmistakable thick eyebrows. The man was not looking well, he had slight stubble and dark shadows under his eyes, he looked paler than was healthy and Germany could see parts of bruises and bandages on his neck and arms. His navy blue suit was loose and crumpled with a paler blue shirt underneath, his white tie was dirty and Germany was sure he could see a blood stain on his lapel.

"Vhat?" Germany asked switching to English by force of habit, however the man's eyes maintained their faraway look and he continued talking as if Germany had never spoken "blood poured out of his mouth and his chest and he managed to say five words to me 'brother I want to die' and I couldn't do a thing to help him. It was on that day I promised myself that I would never let anyone harm him"

"who are you?" Germany asked though he had a bad feeling growing inside him, telling him that he already knew. The man sat down heavily in a chair across from him, a sadistic and downright evil grin on his face

"My name is Scotland" he said the grin never leaving his face and the malicious look never leaving his eyes "And you have been hurting my baby brother." Germany's eyes widened finally recognising the accent. He had heard of this man before. Very few countries had ever met him and even fewer would speak about him. In any official matters Scotland was represented by Arthur who also represented his other brothers as the entire British isles.

"Yes vhell zis is var, countries vhill get hurt" if anything Scotland's smile got bigger

"exactly" he stood up towering over Germany and pulled back his fist "and let's face it, no one is going to notice a few more injuries on you"

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One hour later Scotland delivered his final blow, kicking the now bleeding country in the stomach "I think you understand now, don't you?" the man, no the monster, grinned down at Germany. Of course Germany had put up a fight, however the man was skilled at fighting and soon had the German on the floor writhing in agony. Satisfied that his work was done he turned and began to stroll out of the door when Germany found his voice again "V-vhy?" he asked his voice quiet and throat hoarse. Scotland swiveled around on his heel the murderous look was back in his eyes making Germany regret speaking

"what did you say?" his voice was terrifyingly quiet.

"I asked... Vhy?" Germany attempted to get into a sitting position in order to look less beat and broken. However his arms gave way under him and he lay back down again deciding that the floor would be the safest place to be. Scotland crouched down before him looking angrier than ever fire burning in his emerald eyes.

"one million two hundred thousand people homeless, twenty thousand people dead and fourteen hospitals and the British museum damaged, that's in London alone, and you have the nerve to ask why" Germany's eyes widened slightly, not only in fear of this strange, violent and extremely overprotective man, but in awe, he hadn't yet received the figures of the blitz however, he had never expected that sort of toll to be taken on just one city.

"my baby brother is almost dying in his bed screaming about how he feels as if someone has ripped his heart from his chest, whilst you sit here coming up with new ways to mutilate him and you have the nerve to ask why?" he was screaming now the emerald fire turning into a blaze as his fists clenched as though preparing for another attack. "now listen" his voice had gone quiet now barely more than a whisper, somehow that made it all the more terrifying, "If I see another Luftwaffe in the skies of London trust me I will personally come here and burn Berlin to the ground. Then, I swear I will find you and I will slaughter you" Germany's hands shook slightly with the realisation that this man was a psychopath and at that very moment the strong proud nation wished he could become part of the floor that he was lying on.

"Did Arthur send you?" he asked the question that had been plaguing his mind since he learned that the mentally deranged being in front of him was Scotland, as he had assumed that the two brothers were not very close, although he would have been surprised if Arthur could even speak in the condition he must be in. His voice was quiet as he waited for Scotland to gut him. Then, Scotland did something Germany did not expect him to do, he laughed. It was a quiet laugh barely audible but it was there all the same.

"Definitely not, in fact if he knew I was here he would probably try to hit me... Then again in his current state that might just kill him" Scotland looked down sadness taking over his features as he thought about the broken state his brother was currently in and then a smirk appeared "Don't get me wrong though not a bit of the fight has gone out of that fool" Scotland grinned as he slowly stood up and Germany was tense anticipating another kick, but the Scotsman once again started for the door just as he was about to leave he spoke without turning around "I would say good luck because you will most definitely need it... however to be perfectly honest I hope you die" and with that he left cheerily strolling down the corridor as if he hadn't just assaulted the personification of the country he so merrily wandered through, he leapt over the unconscious guards he took down in order to get to Germany's room, and practically skipped down the steps and out into the streets of Berlin, the self-satisfied smirk never leaving his face.

After a few minutes, once he was sure the sadistic psychopath was gone, he agonisingly rose to his feet walking over to the cupboard, his legs threatening to give way under him with every step, and he pulled out a bundle of bandages. He slowly started to apply them to his numerous wounds. As he reached the scars on his head, made by the steel toed boots the man had worn, he briefly hoped that Adolf Hitler as head of his country was at least getting a headache by now. And, as he finished up, feeling tired, battered and worn, he briefly wondered if his own brother would come to his defence like that, although chose quickly to dispose of that thought, as if just thinking about Prussia would summon him, and right now, among the list of things he needed Prussia was not one of them. Germany sighed and locked his door then made his way painfully over to his bed. He collapsed onto it deciding to ignore any appointments he may have had later that day in favour of a long anticipated rest. His last thought as he drifted off to sleep was 'I hope with all my heart that I never have to see that psychopathic monster again in my life' sadly his hopes fell through.

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**Please tell me what you think. and thank you so much to DyingRen for being the first person to add this to story alert, to Illead for being the first person to favourite this and also to Salmay and hana97 for both favouriting and following you guys rock! I got the figures from the blitz from about 3 different websites so excuse them if they're wrong. And again if anyone has any suggestions about north Ireland it would be really helpful because I am stumped. Oh and points to anyone who can guess what event Scotland was referring to at the beginning.**


	3. Ireland

**I do not own hetalia**

**Okay I don't like this one as much as the others but I had to put this up today because I'm going on holiday tomorrow and wont be able to update for another week. enjoy.**

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Arthur loved tea. He loved it with a passion. As a country a lot of things in his life changed, his empire, his religion, his family... But one of the things that had never changed was his love of tea. He had tea for every occasion. Teacups for every day of the week. Sometimes his subconscious mind even ended up choosing a certain blend of tea for a certain occasion without him even realising. Today was one of those days. He brought the teacup up to his lips as he took in another mouthful of the sweet, warm, comforting liquid and turned the page of his newspaper to see the weather: rain, rain, rain, partial sun, cloudy, rain. He smiled softly and shook his head it seemed that was the weather forecast every week. As if to reassure himself, he turned to the front of the paper just to check he hadn't somehow gotten last week's paper when he took note of the date: July the 4th... the 4th of July, almost the end of the academic year, the day after a full moon... the day Alfred, his own little brother, left him. Numbly Arthur lifted his cup to his mouth again and took another sip as it slid down his throat Arthur realised exactly what type of tea he was drinking chamomile the type he only drank when he was depressed. He had chosen it without even realising. Arthur was happily shaken out of his musings by knocking, loud knocking that did not stop. Slowly and grudgingly Arthur rose to his feet cursing whoever was behind the door one thousand times over. As he reached for the ornate handle of his front door he numbly registered the fact that he could feel one of the scars he had gotten from the war of independence on his side, one of the scars that were supposed to have healed. He pulled back the heavy door to see the last person he wanted to see. Bouncing up and down, flag in one hand burger in the other, dressed in ridiculous amounts of red, white and blue, was Alfred.

"Iggy! Dude! Where have you been? You missed the pre-party party and you didn't even call to say that you were coming to the party!" Alfred yelled loudly the obnoxious grin remaining on his face, if Arthur had had any neighbors they most certainly have come outside to see what all the fuss was about, but Kirkland manor sat alone, on top of a hill with no one else around, Arthur briefly wondered if his house was a metaphor for his life however, quickly discarded that thought in favour of staring once again at the American man stood before him.

"I- I uh..." Arthur noted that his throat had gone dry and blocked and his brain was refusing to cooperate and would not come up with anything to say to Alfred. With his brain broken his instincts kicked in. And, for possibly the first time in his life, his instincts told him to run. He swiveled around on his heel, forgetting the old injuries that seemed to be re-appearing as he ran down the hall, they always showed up again around this time of year, he clumsily reached the door of his front room and pushed it open, dashing in and slamming it behind him with enough force to make the house shake, before turning the little used key and locking the door shut.

The fast-paced music reverberated through his skull as Ireland lay on the bed in the guest room, formerly his room. He had come to visit his brothers, however, Wales was out for the day, Scotland was visiting Nessie and, Ireland assumed, his younger brother was in some pub drunk out of his skull. So the only people in the house were him and Arthur. A door slammed making the remaining beer in Ireland's old bottles shake. Ireland sat up in bed confused deciding that the fact that Arthur, the most gentlemanly-est gentleman that Ireland had ever had the misfortune of meeting, was slamming doors must be a sign. Looking over at his calendar to see if he had time for the apocalypse Ireland let out a string of curses. It was the 4th of July. Now he knew why his brothers were so eager to get out of the house. Ireland sighed as he stood up, last year Arthur had promised he wouldn't go back to what had become his Independence Day tradition, sitting alone in a dark room and sobbing; however the slam of that door could only mean one thing. He quickly checked himself in the mirror just to make sure that he didn't have anything red, white or blue on him. He sighed in relief as he realised he had put on an old green t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. He swept his light ginger hair out of his eyes and absently noted that he needed a shave. As he came to the ornate staircase and started walking down, fighting the strong urge to slide down the beautifully crafted, freshly waxed banister, Ireland called out "Come on Arthur, I thought you weren't going to do this this ye-" Ireland stopped dead. For there, not more than a few feet in front of him, attempting, without success, to get into the locked room, was America. Ireland saw red. He ran up and grabbed America, probably more roughly than was necessary, and dragged him to the door.

"Get out!" he yelled fiercely wanting nothing more than to punch America in the face

"W-woah dude! Calm down! I just stopped by to check if Iggy was coming to the party" the American attempted to defend himself

"Party?" Ireland asked hoping, for America's sake that he did not mean what Ireland thought he meant

"Yeah! My Fourth of July party! I invited Iggy ages ago and he never got back to me!" said the American immediately perking up despite the fact that Ireland still had a strong grip on his shirt. Ireland could not believe the stupidity that this one man possessed. Faster than America could see, Ireland grabbed a beer bottle, where it came from America couldn't understand, smashed it and pointed it at America's neck

"Get. Out" the Irish man growled, roughly shoving America out of the door. Before he could shut it, however, America spoke "I don't understand" he didn't try to get in again just stood there with a confused look on his face.

"That's not surprising" Ireland mumbled, but America continued as though he hadn't said anything "If this is about Arthur not wanting to see me because it's Independence Day, why does he want to see you? You declared your independence too" America was oddly perceptive

"You really think that you and I are the same?" Ireland asked he wasn't stumped by America's question as America had hoped. "We aren't. You see the difference between your independence and mine is that when I became independent I moved out, but when you became independent you denounced him as your brother and didn't speak to him for years! So no America we are not the same!" and with that he slammed the door shut, locking it so that moron couldn't get back in again, and quietly turned around. The broken shards of the beer bottle crunched beneath his feet and he mentally reminded himself the clean that up later. He arrived at the door and knocked once. "Arthur? It's me, can I come in?" Ireland waited in suspense for a few moments before he heard the quiet click of a key turning in the lock. Gently he pushed the door open. The room was dark and silent, apart from the quiet sobs that led Ireland to the corner Arthur was curled up in. "your mask has slipped, brother" Arthur looked up at him with pain filled eyes and Ireland sat down beside him. He pulled Arthur onto his lap and gently stroked his hair as he whispered comforting words to the sobbing nation. "It's going to be alright brother. Don't worry, I'm here. I'll always be here"

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**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, followed and to hana97 who favourite authored me! like I said I probably wont be able to update for another week or so, but after that it's north Ireland time! and I still need ideas on that one. the best one I've gotten so far is from my brother who said he should meet Canada but if you have any other ideas _please_ tell me.**


	4. North Ireland

**I do not own hetalia**

**Sorry that it's been a little while since I last posted but I had major writers block on this one. Still I got it out though. Enjoy.**

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"Und ze next speaker ist Britain" Germany announced to the nations assembled at the world meeting. They waited for a few seconds, but Britain did not come to stand at the podium. Confused, the other countries started to look around. His seat was empty and papers were strewn around his area of the table.

"Um... Britain?" America hesitantly asked looking under the table. A messier-than-usual head of scruffy blond hair popped up from under the table "y-yes just a minute" the man let out a shaky laugh and haphazardly grabbed most of his papers from the desk. He hurried up to the front, dropping a few papers as he went.

"S-so" he said rifling through the papers trying to find the right one and dropping even more in the process "Uh... Ah yes! The Olympics are almost upon us and Mister Cameron says that... Oh wait no I already told you about that umm... The stadium is- wait no told you about that too." Arthur frantically searched through the papers; France opened his mouth, as if to comment on his neighbour's unusually unorganised appearance, but apparently thought better of it and closed his mouth. "A-ha!" Arthur exclaimed triumphantly holding up a piece of paper "The flame is currently on its way to the stadium and-"

"Is it true that the flame actually went out?" America yelled to him. A slight blush appeared on Arthur's face and he stuttered out "w-well I-I admit that due to the weather th-the flame h-has-" as he was saying this, he searched frantically through his stack of papers to find another thing to talk about. However, during his desperate search he lost his grip on the stack and they all scattered across the floor. A few sympathetic nations sitting near him crouched down to help him pick up the papers.

"Uh... Britain?" Japan asked looking at one of the pieces of paper; to his surprise the only thing that was on it was a picture of the great Ormond street hospital logo made out of rectangles. The paper was quickly snatched out of his hands by Arthur.

"Don't look at that!" he yelled stuffing the piece of paper into his overflowing pockets. Germany sighed "Perhaps you should sit down" Arthur sighed heavily and trudged back to his seat where he pulled out one of the sheets of paper and started scribbling madly. A few nations continued to stare at him with worry and confusion on their faces, but all the attention soon turned to the next speaker.

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Germany gathered up his notes and started to walk out of the room as he passed Arthur he glanced at him with worry almost saying something before deciding against it. Arthur glanced up at Germany wondering why he was staring. Germany slightly flustered tried to make it look like he wasn't staring and quickly made it look like he wasn't staring by looking away. Noticing that they weren't the only two in the room like they usually were he asked "China, shouldn't you have gone by now?" China was standing there like he had been for the past ten minutes

"Oh I was just waiting to speak to Britain" China said with a glimmer of something Germany couldn't recognise in his eyes. Germany nodded uneasily and left the conference room. Arthur continued to write for a few more minutes before slowly looking up at China

"Yes?" he asked his voice sounded tired and stressed

"How are the Olympic preparations going?" he asked if you looked close enough you could see a slight smirk on his face

"Well." Arthur replied shortly. China grinned and sat down on a chair

"Face it" he said happiness leaking into his voice "your Olympics will never be able to compare with Beijing's" Arthur didn't even look up whilst replying "that's your opinion"

"That's everyone's opinion" China retorted. Arthur didn't move. "Stop kidding yourself! You're completely unprepared" Arthur let out a deep sigh, but still didn't move. China started to get frustrated and pulled away some of the papers.

"Hey!" Arthur yelled reaching out to grab the papers, but China jumped onto a chair and held them out of his reach.

"Listen to me!" the older nation yelled frustrated that Britain wouldn't admit to the inferiority of his games. Arthur started to jump trying to reach his precious papers, but China pushed down on his head keeping them out of reach. In their struggle neither of them noticed the doors to the conference room slowly open. A head of slightly messy light ginger hair poked through before being followed by a body. The boy looked around fifteen and was fairly scrawny, he was shorter than average and wearing a green t-shirt and tan shorts. He had a smattering of freckles across his cheeks and the thick eyebrows and green eyes of a Kirkland.

"Artie I've got that tape you-" the boy stopped dead staring at the almost comical sight. If it wasn't for the fact that his extremely stressed out older brother was being pushed past his limit he probably would have joined in and played keepaway.

"Oi!" he yelled gaining the attention of the two men. They swivelled around, stunned looks on their faces, and stared at the boy.

"Who are you?" China asked at the same time as Arthur said: "North I'll be out in a minute" the boy, now dubbed North, calmly asked Arthur to wait outside. The nation protested, but North firmly said: "Now!" seeing his older brother's clearly distressed face he added in a gentler tone "Don't worry I'll get your papers back" Arthur, far too distressed to argue, simply sighed and left the room, giving a small weak smile to his younger brother as he left. Whatever hint of kindness that was in the boy's eyes immediately left as he slammed the door shut behind his brother's back.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" North yelled at China. The stunned nation hadn't moved from the chair he was standing on "Can't you see how stressed he is right now? And, yet there you go acting like a child and nearly driving him over the edge"

"It's not my fault that he can't deal with preparing for the Olympics as well as I could. He is just weak like the other western nations" China retorted calmly stepping off of the chair. The boy glared at him, something that would have been much less fearsome without the eyebrows.

"How dare you! When you insult the western nations you insult my family and believe me we do not like to be insulted" the boy started to advance on China, but suddenly stopped staring at thin air as if there was something there that only he could see

"Yes I know he-" North said to the air, a look of annoyance on his face. "But he has-" he tried again, but was cut off by silence once again he opened his mouth a few times as though to speak, but closed it again as though the thing that only he could see was still speaking. At that moment there was no doubt in his mind that this was Arthur's brother. North sighed and pouted at the air before huffing "fine" and turning on his heel and stalking away. China stared after him wide-eyed and shocked, he felt a tugging at his hand and saw the papers, that he was still loosely holding on to, jerk about as though something was trying to pull them free. With one final tug the papers came free from his hand and started to float through the air, coming to hover over North's head before suddenly dropping down into his hands. North then walked out of the room an unseen satisfied smirk on his face.

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**First off thanks to everyone for favouriting, following and reviewing. There's only one chapter left now and it's probably going to be the hardest to write so don't expect it in the next few days or anything. I think that it's going to be the British isles attending a world meeting but I have no idea what's going to happen during it (I did have it planned out but I lost my plan) so if anyone has any suggestions please, please,_ please _tell me even if you don't have suggestions please review anyway, they motivate me to write.  
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